Chapter Sixty-Six:

  “Descent into a Thawing Nightmare”

  The early morning air was crisp, the snow untouched except for the tracks they followed. An uneasy silence clung to the Ashen Mire as Keira, Chris, and Rachel moved through the frozen landscape. Their boots sank with each step, the cold pressing in as they reached the temple, their breath rising in the morning chill.

  The Temple of Ash loomed before them, its massive stone structure standing resolute against time, its weathered surface cracked and lined with age. The enormous skull that formed its entrance loomed above them, its hollow eye sockets staring vacantly outward, icicles clinging to its edges, their shape resembling fangs, the mouth itself frozen mid-silent wail. Snow clung to the ancient carvings, distorting the details, but the faint scent of ash still lingered beneath the frost.

  Chris adjusted the strap on his sword, Roland's sword. The one he had left when he had taken Souleater. His voice was steady, unbothered. "Look, I know if Roland took my weapon, there was a reason. And he wouldn’t just run off for no reason."

  Keira exhaled sharply, rubbing her arms against the cold. "That's exactly why I’m worried, Chris."

  "Ahh, He'll be fine. RolandOGilead was a god remember?"

  "Yeah Chris, he was, but despite how much you want to keep pretending this is a game, it's not. He could be in serious danger."

  Rachel crouched near the last of the tracks before the stone steps, her fingers tracing the imprint in the snow. "Yeah, especially since it seems like these smaller tracks were following them."

  Chris peered over, his brow furrowing. "You think someone else was trailing them?"

  Before Rachel could answer, the ground beneath them trembled. A thunderous explosion echoed from deep within the temple, shaking loose dust and bits of stone from the ancient skull-carved entrance. A gust of hot air and dirt blasted out of the open maw, carrying the scent of something scorched, something dead.

  Keira turned to Chris, deadpan. "Nothing to worry about, huh?"

  Chris barely flinched, shrugging. "Yeah, that was probably Roland totally wrecking something in there."

  Rachel stood, brushing snow from her gloves. "Let’s hope you’re right."

  "It doesn’t matter what that was. Come on." Without hesitation, Keira took the first step, leading them up into the temple’s yawning entrance. The others followed quickly behind, vanishing into the darkened corridors beyond.

  Keira led the way into the Temple of Ash, her breath steady despite the dread growing in her chest. The corridor ahead stretched into unseen depths, the air thick with lingering frost and the faint scent of something scorched beneath the ice. Their footsteps carried through the vast temple, softened by the thick frost blanketing the stone.

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  The first chamber opened before them, its towering pillars encased in frost, their carved reliefs obscured by layers of ice. A faint, rhythmic sound echoed from the far end of the chamber, a distant drip, drip, drip, water melting from fractures in the stone.

  Chris exhaled, pointing at tracks. "Looks like they came this way."

  Rachel narrowed her eyes, activating her analysis abilities. A faint glow traced over the tracks in her vision, illuminating the path like spectral embers against the frozen ground. "Whoever was trailing them was keeping their distance, hiding." She rose smoothly, her gaze following the highlighted footprints. 'I'll lead from here.'

  They pressed forward. The second chamber greeted them with a cavernous expanse of frozen stone, its ceiling lost to the gloom above. Ice sprawled across the floor, slick and treacherous. Thin rivulets of water traced along the base of the pillars, glistening under the torchlight as frost receded from the ancient stone.

  Chris let out a low whistle. "That’s a hell of a sight."

  A sound threaded through the chamber, barely a whisper at first, before unraveling into a high, lilting giggle. It was the kind of laugh that didn’t belong anywhere, childlike, yet seething with malice. It stretched unnaturally through the icy ruins, warping as it echoed, layering over itself like a chorus of something purely evil. It didn’t come from ahead or behind. It came from everywhere at once, seeping through the cracks in the stone, crawling into their ears.

  Rachel stiffened, her analytical mind desperately trying to pinpoint its origin.

  "Uh, did anyone else just pee a little?" Chris asked. He moved closer to the others.

  Keira summoned a ball of fire into her palm. "We have to keep moving."

  The final stretch of the temple’s depths led them through a corridor lined with shattered remnants of what might have once been statues or relics. The cold wasn’t as sharp now, and the banners that had once hung stiff with ice were beginning to sag, their fabric darkened with moisture.

  As they moved deeper, the passage opened into the main chamber. A throne of ice loomed at the far end, its once jagged edges now softening, slick with meltwater that dripped steadily to the stone below. The tombs of the caregivers, once sealed beneath thick frost, were now emerging from their icy shrouds, the carved stone glistening with moisture. The air carried the hushed sounds of water trickling through the thaw, the temple waking from a long, frozen slumber.

  Keira took a slow breath, steadying herself. Something had ended here. And now, something else was just beginning.

  Now, they would learn what came after death.

  The chamber stretched before them, immense and unyielding, its towering pillars reflecting the dim light like silent sentinels. At the far end, where the remnants of the ice throne had begun to thaw into ruin, two figures stood waiting.

  Sterling. Hex.

  But not as they had seen them before.

  Sterling was no longer the blind old man wrapped in the guise of a weary mage. His presence now filled the space like a sickness. His cloak, blacker than a starless night, swayed lightly behind him, its tattered edges whispering dying embers.

  Beneath the hood, his face was no longer concealed. The horned visage of something utterly inhuman stared back, its twisted crown of antlers curling outward, framing a hollow mask of bark and bone. The faint glow of his eyes cut through the dimness, two burning brands, not of fire, but of something far worse.

  Beside him, Hex grinned, her small frame wreathed in an aura of childlike menace. Her black dress, intricate and layered, fluttered slightly, as if stirred by an unfelt breeze. Her inky hair, shaped into pointed, horn-like tufts, framed a face of unsettling porcelain perfection. She tilted her head, eyes wide and hungry, already savoring the next cruel game she would play.

  Chris' breath stopped as his gaze locked onto the sword at Sterling’s hip. His sword. Souleater. Roland had taken it when he left.

  His voice cut through the thick silence. "That's my sword. What did you do to Roland?"

  Hex’s grin widened, a flash of teeth in the dim chamber. She swayed slightly, heels clicking against the frost-bitten floor.

  "Daddy broke him before I got my turn to play with him," she purred. "How lucky I am that you all came to play too!"